


only twenty minutes to sleep

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, Referenced Canonical Traumas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Bobbi struggles with her guilt over Kara's fate.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Bobbi Morse
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: Bobbi Morse - 50 Years of Comics





	only twenty minutes to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fitzbobbi Friday! The "referenced canonical traumas" in the tag are specifically Bobbi's torture at Ward's hands and Fitz being sent tot he bottom of the ocean; if either of those are squicks for you, turn back now.

The roof was lonely. Quiet, and occasionally peaceful, but lonely.

The window opened, but the roof was still lonely.  
  
“Nightmares again?” Fitz asked quietly as he slid down next to her. The warmth radiating from him took an edge off the cold the same way his voice took the edge off the loneliness, but neither Fitz’s body heat nor his presence could erase the emptiness yawning in Bobbi’s chest.

She nodded, tucking her chin on top of her knees.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bobbi whispered, the rustling of the wind in the trees almost drowning out her voice.

“Okay.” 

Bobbi appreciated how Fitz wouldn’t prod at her. He trusted her to talk when she needed to talk and be quiet when she needed to be quiet. Some days she wished he would ask a question because she wanted to talk and didn’t know where to start, but today wasn’t one of those days.

Her nightmares were messy. Not just bloody, though they were definitely that, too. They were messy, moments overlapping and blurring into each other until they were barely recognizable as her individual traumas. They were an oil slick on an ocean, constantly shifting and expanding and suffocating. 

Oil slicks had an iridescence to them, shimmering rainbow in the sunlight. Her nightmares were the same way - when she looked at them in the daylight, they weren’t recognizable as the thick black choking thing she remembered. That was why she always wrote them down at night. Then she could remember they were real.

Bobbi was still working on remembering she was allowed to be hurt. She was allowed to be hurt and angry and disappointed and mourning.

(Disappointed in herself, for not doing better. Mourning not for herself, because losing half a lung was awful but losing a daughter was even worse.)

“I saw Kara’s mom at her funeral,” Bobbi said, tipping her head back to the sky. There weren’t any stars - it was too overcast for there to be stars, and even if it wasn’t, the light pollution from the city nearby made them barely visible. The clouds curled at the edges, purple-grey and back lit thanks to the city lights pushing away the dark.

“Yeah?” Fitz asked, pressing his shoulder against hers.

“I didn’t know what to say to her. So I just. Didn’t say anything.” Bobbi sighed, blinking up at the clouds. “And I keep dreaming that she screams at me. Asks me why I killed her baby.”

“You didn’t do that,” Fitz said lowly. He wrapped his arm around Bobbi’s shoulders, tucking her into his side. 

Bobbi sniffed. “But I did. If I hadn’t told them where she was, then -”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Fitz interrupted firmly. “You were doing what you thought was best with the information you had. If you hadn’t given them the safehouse location, then they wouldn’t have trusted you enough to get all the information you gave Coulson and Gonzales, and then what would’ve happened?”

“I don’t know.” Bobbi sighed again, tipping her head to the side so her ear was resting on Fitz’s shoulder. “But I don’t have to live with the consequences of that timeline, do I?”

“I suppose not,” Fitz agreed. He lifted a hand up and began trailing it through her hair. It was a rat’s nest - she hadn’t properly showered in days - but Fitz’s fingers were gentle as they began working through the tangles.

“I just wish I could make it make sense,” Bobbi mumbled as she stared out at the lawn spread beneath them. “I know that I couldn’t have really done anything other than what I did, but…”

“It’s okay if you’re feeling guilty,” Fitz offered, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “But just because you feel guilty doesn’t mean what you did was wrong.”

“It also doesn’t mean what I did was right,” Bobbi sniffled. Not seeing another way things could’ve done made things worse, not better. If there was no other way for the situation to play out, that meant Kara was always destined to die at the hands of a man who she thought loved her but could never understand love. Bobbi couldn’t believe that the universe dictated that some people always had to sacrifice themselves. It shouldn’t be up the universe to decide who lived and who died. It shouldn’t be up to the universe to decide anything.

“It doesn’t,” Fitz whispered. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there longer than Bobbi deserved. “But I can tell you that what you did was right.”

“And why should I believe you?” Bobbi asked weakly. She wanted to believe Fitz, she really did, but he would tell her anything if he thought it would make her feel better. Bobbi didn’t doubt that Fitz would lie to her, which was probably a feeling she should examine later, but she didn’t have the energy to at that moment. She barely had the energy to breathe.

“Because I’m also his collateral.”

“Don’t -”

“If I had died at the bottom of the ocean,” Fitz interrupted, “I wouldn’t want Jemma to feel guilty about it. Even though we both know now there was a way we could both survive, I wouldn’t want her to spend her whole life searching for it.” 

“But -”

“If I had died at the bottom of the ocean,” Fitz repeated, more forcefully, “that would’ve been Ward’s fault, and only Ward’s. You’d be pissed at Jemma is she suggested otherwise. So why is this different?”

Bobbi didn’t have a good answer for him.

“I’m sorry.” Fitz kissed the top of her head again. “I’m sorry I can’t make it better, I’m sorry I can’t keep the nightmares away, I’m sorry I don’t know the right things to say.”

“You do make it better.” Bobbi lifted her head off his shoulder so she could look him in the eyes. “You make it better by being here.” And he did; his warmth couldn’t fill in the hole in her heart, but it still was better than being cold. Being with him was better than being alone. Having his perspective on things was better than being caught in her own head, even if she wasn’t sure she could believe him yet.

“I mean it, Bobbi.” It was hard to make out anything other than Fitz’s general shape in the darkness, but his eyes glinted in the weak silver light of the moon. “I don’t think Kara would’ve wanted this for you. And I definitely don’t think her mum would want you having nightmares about her yelling at you. I know mine wouldn’t.”

“She’s not you,” Bobbi said softly. “Not everyone is as good as you are, Fitz.”

“But she was,” Fitz insisted. “She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was corrupted by HYDRA, and she was good.”

“But…”

“Bobbi,” he said gently, reaching out to touch her face. “You don’t have to believe me. But please stop trying to find excuses to make yourself feel horrible.”

“…What do you think your mom would say if Jemma called her after what happened at the bottom of the ocean? If you hadn’t made it?” Bobbi’s voice creaked in her chest. She didn’t want to think about Fitz dying, especially not now of all times, but she wanted to know - needed to know.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Fitz whispered. “She would know that me dying was almost as horrible and awful for Jemma as it was for me, and that she would carry that with her for the rest of the her life.”

“Do you think I should call her?” Bobbi asked. “Kara’s mom, I mean. We still have her number on file.”

“If you think that would help.”

“What if she hates me?” Bobbi’s voice sounded impossibly small even to her own ears.

“The version of her in your head already hates you,” Fitz pointed out. “The worst she can say is what you’ve already been saying to yourself.” 

Bobbi wasn’t sure if she loved or hated that Fitz was right. She also wasn’t sure how to explain that even if Kara’s mom didn’t hate her, it was possible she would feel worse; what would happen if she talked to Kara’s mother and was forgiven, but felt no sense of absolution? What would she do then?

“Can we go back to sleep?” Bobbi said eventually. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and she was beginning to think maybe it was better to save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow.

“Yeah.” Once again Fitz didn’t push. He just slid the window open, tumbling gracelessly through it before opening his arms to her. Bobbi fell into them gratefully, burying herself in Fitz’s scent. She hadn’t realized how cold she really was until she was back in the warmth of the house, and she was grateful to close the window and leave the chilly night air behind her.

“Will you sit with me when I call her?” Bobbi asked as she climbed back into their bed.

“Anything you want.” Fitz cuddled up beside her, fitting his arm around her waist carefully. 

Bobbi nodded. That was what she wanted - she wanted to call Kara’s mom, but she didn’t want to do it alone. She wanted to make sense of all the badness in her head, but she didn’t want to do that alone, either. She wasn’t sure she could do it alone, even if she tried. 

Luckily, she thought as she snuggled herself into Fitz’s arms, she didn’t have to.


End file.
